A single candle burns,

flame stutters and

rights itself as

I enter the room.

All is still, just the

faint sound of

electricity humming.

And you, at rest,

quiet.  Never seen

you so quiet, so still.

Quite eerie. I

hang back, half

expecting you to sit

up, say “boo”, smile,

laugh, make a face,

scare the shit out

of me but that doesn’t

happen.  I edge closer

“hello dad”

You look smart in

dark pinstripe,

lilac shirt, diamond

patterned tie in

shades of purple,

my favourite colour.

Brass handles on teak,

floor standing flower

arrangements spill white

on dusky pink carpet

and a box of tissues sit

on a low wooden table.

I don’t use the last one,

somehow that would

seem rude.

I relax, pull up a

chair, feels good

to sit with you again,

as we have so many

times these last months.

With the back of my

fingers, I stroke

your cheek, smooth

your lapel then fix

a white rose in

your buttonhole,

wondering if a

falling tear might

wake you up.

Glad you had 

a haircut, now

you are ready to

go and meet mum.